


What Would You Do?

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: Storm the Court and Save the King [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur is here for Merlin though, Arthur isn't actually an idiot, Arthur may be emotionally repressed but he tries, Canon Era, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt, Epic Friendship, Feelings, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Gen, HOW did Arthur forget Mordred was a druid???, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, I love this show, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm such a sap send help, In honor of Colin looking at Bradley's lips sometimes, Magic, Mental Breakdown, POV Arthur, Panic, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Protective Arthur, Season/Series 05, Wouldn't be one of my stories without some cuddles involved, these guys are adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: Arthur asks Merlin, yet again - what would he do about magic?Arthur wants to save - to spare - Mordred. Merlin knows that choice can yet cost Arthur's life.What should he do?
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Storm the Court and Save the King [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912063
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This particular scene, as described below, in the show destroys me.
> 
> I found [this Instagram post](https://www.instagram.com/p/B6SSwefF_nX/?igshid=3mh19vxlqx3r) \- it's a Tumblr screenshot, but I wanted to accept the request of its author(s) and write a version of that incredibly emotional scene where Arthur actually tries to talk to Merlin about his reasoning. Because the king of Camelot is not, in fact, an idiot even if he does act like one.

"What should I do, Merlin? What do you think I should do about Mordred?"

 _\- What will you do?_ Merlin had asked of him first. Quiet, almost gentle as his voice often was, when not rising and cracking and bleating out dissent. He seems so...tired, almost as much so as the king of Camelot feels, as they sit together, facing one another across a fire. Warmth that Arthur feels incredibly grateful for.

 _I don't know._ Arthur's body, his very tongue feels heavy, as if he could nearly choke upon the words. _My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred. ...But I have seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In - and in my own time, Morgana has used it for nothing but evil._

What would you do? **What would you do in my place?**

The words hammer in Arthur's ears as they pass his lips, dropping like a gauntlet into the space between himself and his manservant; his friend, his advisor, confidant. Merlin sucks in a breath, eyes grown shiny from... Something. Likely the weight of this, which curls in Arthur's stomach like some great writhing _thing_ as heavy as any aspect of this job has been for him.

Heavier, even.

Because it is a job, being king. A duty, one he's been taught and set up, groomed for by his father; pushed and pulled hither and yon in early years (the betrayal of Agravaine still makes him feel sick, causes his lip to curl in disgust, yet mostly, almost only at himself, this time. He should have realised. He ought to have known.)

He ought to have listened to Merlin, then. So many times, on so many occasions. And that rankles only slightly less so than it would have previously in their relationship, though not as much from pride anymore - no, he is proud to have Merlin's ear. His sharp tongue, his outbursts of frustration and wheedling and yes, wisdom; all mean much to Arthur now, after years. Years of not seeing his value and feeling guilt over that. And yet he'd seen Mordred's value as he'd grown - this boy he remembers vaguely through the mist of years, of grief and time and childhood; and of the murkiness of _magic_ , the sort his friend carried when she arrived, the sort Arthur registers in the young knight, lancing out of his eyes and crackling over his chainmail, whirling through the raven waves of his curling hair and skipping along his fingertips. Ancient, cold and hungry, strange and slightly terrifying power. 

It ripples through Mordred and through the girl, stronger as they are in Camelot together, and Arthur had felt the need to separate them. Yet to condemn the girl, and to imprison Mordred, that choice causes him to balk, to feel as though his veins have turned to ice and his joints to mud. Sluggish and slow. An idiot, as usual, Merlin will certainly say; but Arthur cannot stop himself. He cannot keep from asking.

"Merlin, what do you think I should do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> Honestly I'm not clear where to go on this particular piece; it deals with a great deal of thoughts and feelings, my own of which remain jumbled even many years after initially seeing this scene. I hope you'll enjoy it; I find myself thankful to be able to write about these characters and this show.
> 
> Comments are appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

_If I do save Mordred's life, all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want? ... Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought... So what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?_

Merlin's heart is hammering, he shifts in place, unable to answer Arthur. The king notices how he bites his lip and his nostrils flare as his shoulders heave to suck in breath. How he cannot seem to get enough air, and his eyes are shining in the firelight, but not from anything positive. No, they gleam with tears that catch in globular form on his long lashes and line his lids, threatening to spill over onto the pale skin of the manservant's cheeks as he swallows. Arthur squints, eyes roving over Merlin's pale features, the pulse thundering in his neck as the apple of his throat bobs, and is concerned on behalf of his friend as Merlin sucks in a wet breath, mouth parted in a manner that seems both horrified and resigned. He seems to be breaking down before Arthur's very eyes.

And he doesn't know _why._

Merlin has been quick and very unafraid to offer advice on previous occasions, even going so far as to take part in a shouting match in the centre of the great hall of Camelot. He has never seemed to run short of some sort of answer, or thought; even his ability of inane chatter can sometimes bring his opinions to light. 

But here, now, after all of these questions, all the worries that could very well be assuaged by words, he is silent. 

He has remained so for too long. Far too long, particularly for a chatterbox like Merlin. Surely he is not affrighted by magic, not after his research with Gaius - it is an unknown no longer. And he has gently tried to say not all of it is evil, at least, he'd helped Morgana with her nightmares and with the druid boy. There was something about that flying creature; how he had hated the Witchfinder with a burning passion that honestly ignited Arthur as well. Merlin willingly said he was a sorcerer to attempt to protect Guinevere, and his mate that he grew up with had been magic. 

There is something stopping Merlin's speech, something in these questions is breaking him down in a manner all-too personal, and Arthur is worried. He sees it, this tearing at Merlin, the evidence is in front of his eyes. And yet in his throat catches his reply, the query he has that attempts jocularity, the way the king could break this tension and soothe the emotion in the air, if he dares to:

_Come now, Merlin, don't be such a girl. Just answer the question. Why do you care so much?_


	3. Chapter 3

His breath is heaving, his eyes are wet, and honestly Arthur is getting a mite concerned.

More than simply a mite, if he's being perfectly honest. He has never seen Merlin like this. The man looks as if he is crumbling inside, breaking down in response to Arthur's questions, and right, it may be fun to tease Merlin about being an idiot or to snap at him to shut up (often) but the total lack of words coupled with the... fragility in his eyes, his entire face at this moment - it causes a clenching feeling to seize within Arthur's chest. Alright, in his heart - and his mind starts to circle round the reasoning for Merlin's silence and his tears.

He had grown up around magic, and never seems afraid of it - he had thrown himself in situations beyond count, Arthur inwardly admits; situations that would turn a fainthearted man's bowels to water. Even those of a knight, and Merlin hardly wears anything other than his shirt, jerkin, boots and trousers besides; not to mention those ridiculously large neckerchiefs of his. There is no question in the king's mind that Merlin is brave. He's proved his mettle again and again. Yet he _does_ seem sometimes to know more of magic even than can be learnt by study in books or the fact that one's childhood friend was a sorcerer....

Arthur turns these thoughts over and over, and decides to say something; something mad, he's sure - or well, it might not be. Not if Merlin's abilities and knowledge - alright, wisdom - about magic make some sort of sense...

Yet breaking into Arthur's thoughts is the sound of a smothered sob, and he cannot stomach that. He cannot sit across from Merlin at a fire and watch feelings devour his friend from the inside out. 

Thus he is up and moving, shifting to settle next to Merlin and put his arm and hand out to him. "Merlin," he says, tone of voice a gentle growl as he's preparing his hand to give a bracing pat to the shaking shoulder of his shuddering manservant. But with a second choking sob Merlin turns towards him, and without any more thought about it Arthur has pressed the dark-haired fellow against his side; practically crushing Merlin into his chest and pressing his lips to onyx hair. He holds on securely, mail-covered arm cinching around both of Merlin's shoulders tightly. And if it wouldn't make the both of them girls' petticoats in this moment, he would lift his battle-roughened fingers in an attempt to wipe away Merlin's tears.

As it is, Arthur murmurs "I'm sorry," and "I didn't intend to upset you so with, by asking all of this, I just - I dunno what to do. But you always have ideas, Merlin. You always give advice. This must be something so close to your heart...," Arthur's words peter out. He had not fully realised what he'd just been saying, but something settles in his brain. Why it is so personal to Merlin, this question. Why some of the strangest aspects of his friend suddenly make a strange sort of sense. Why he would act, and sound, and _feel_ as though the world is crashing in around him and falling directly upon him with Mordred's situation and the king's questioning. "Of course," Arthur breathes. "Of course it is. I should have known..." With a gentle squeeze to Merlin's upper arm as he lifts his face away from soft hair, tilting his chin to look at Merlin instead, his voice grows quiet and full of depth. It's as if he contains firmness and wonder; perhaps both, or neither. 

Merlin feels as if he has taken a heavy breath and is holding it inside as Arthur blurts out "...you are a sorcerer, aren't you, Merlin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as though Arthur in his emotional repression, shall we say, wouldn't think about going to comfort Merlin, his body would simply react, which is also why he doesn't quite register what he's saying as an attempt at comfort. 
> 
> He does, however, register his own realisation - and I really truly hope it reads in-character for him!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm a -" Merlin's voice cracks, then breaks completely as the sobs continue coming, thickening his voice and wracking his entire body as much as he tries to halt them. Curling in upon himself, Merlin lifts a hand in a manner slow yet inexorable and taps his fingers to his chest stiffly, expression haunted as tears pour silently down his face. He looks so utterly alone, and Arthur tightens his arm around him, shifting to keep looking at Merlin as he seems to be trying to duck away. His breath bursts from his mouth wetly as he practically whimpers "Arthur, I -" pressing his lips together and his eyes tightly closed, Merlin nods rapidly, movement fierce yet somehow also frantic. Arthur's heartbeat thumps frenetically in his chest.

He cannot stand for Merlin to go on like this. He wants, he _aches_ to help his friend. And not by saying something to the effect of no one being worth Merlin's tears as he had done so foolishly before. Because this isn't about just anyone, this is something so potent, important, and... powerful, too. Arthur can feel it. He knows in the depths of his being. "Go on, then," the monarch murmurs, focusing on Merlin's face, yearning to showcase everything, to swear in some way that he has been and will keep right on being willing to protect Merlin. To care for him as best he can. Arthur leans his head forward, resting against Merlin's in the briefest forehead touch even as he lifts a hand to clap the side of his face, calloused thumb swiping across one of Merlin's sharp cheekbones as he cups his palm. "I'm listening," he says. _I'm here._

Perhaps tis wishful thinking, but that seems to steady Merlin. "Yes," the manservant gasps, nodding into Arthur's hand as his eyes flicker across his face, lingering upon certain places that are not the king's eyes. "Yes, I'm a - I'm a sorcerer." With a gulp "I have magic. I was - born with it." He continues speaking and then in movement surprisingly strong for someone seemingly breaking down, Merlin wrenches his face away and his torso upright to face Arthur squarely, chin rising as his teary gaze locks onto the king's. "And I use it... For you, Arthur. Only for you." That strength seems to crack and crumble as he inclines his head in the first legitimate, completely respectful bow that Arthur believes he has ever witnessed from this man. It's a miracle in itself, beyond the words, but then Merlin's features crumple as he chokes "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry I didn't tell you" and ducking his head, next phrase nigh inaudible he admits "I was just so scared."

Arthur feels a burst of agony like a sword thrust into his side. That has to mean Merlin was scared of _him_ , of what he would do. His face spasms as his hand moves to take hold of Merlin's shoulder. "Merlin...,"

Vehemently shaking his head, Merlin draws back a mite. "No, Arthur. I need you to- listen, I..., I didn't want you to be put in a position where you'd have to make the choice," _the choice whether or not to kill me,_ he means. Arthur sees that in his eyes. "Because of - your father. I couldn't do that to you."

 _My father, my family, everything I've learned about magic throughout my life,_ Arthur thinks bitterly as he looks on Merlin, this stubborn steadfast boy, now a man, who's done nothing but serve him. Abysmally, Arthur had so often thought; but he ponders now on Merlin's merits that go beyond properly pouring wine into a cup. How many times has he said he would go with Arthur, to protect him and look after him? How many times has he said he's saved his life, and how many of those instances that Arthur had taken as quips beforehand (Merlin does have a bit of a dark, dry wit though the king doesn't plan on ever telling him that. Let him think he shouldn't try to be funny) were, in fact, truth? His brain pounds out a question. 

How much does he owe Merlin for his life? 

And an answer: more than he can ever express enough gratitude for, never mind repay. 

Arthur swallows and nods to Merlin, stormy eyes holding bright ones, that strong blue searing into Arthur's very soul, it seems, though words are failing Merlin, or at least appear to be doing so, for the first time in his life. Arthur can only shake his head and catch the slighter man up in a full body hug, allowing Merlin's head to rest upon his shoulder, both of his own armour-covered arms tugging him in and encircling, cinching tightly around his back.

Voice rough with his own emotion yet impossibly fond, Arthur lifts one hand and rubs the back of Merlin's head, tousling his hair. "You're such a bloody idiot," he says, but the way Merlin's body relaxes into his arms, Arthur can tell he knows what that actually means. "This is when you hug me back, come on." Sharp jaw shifting and his own cheek, warm from the heat of the fire, pressing to Merlin's cool damp one, the king nuzzles his nose into his manservant's hair, lips resting against skin as he feels Merlin let out what sounds like a breathless chuckle, arms coming up to pat and then twine around Arthur tightly as he buries himself into the embrace at last.

"Arthur," he whispers after some moments.

"Mm?" The king shifts only the slightest, fingers falling away from Merlin's hair, which he'd gone from mussing up affectionately to stroking absentmindedly. He then drops his hand and speaks in an accusing manner: "Hang on, you STILL haven't answered my question on what I should _do_ , Merlin!"

Merlin stretches his neck and cuddles closer with a tiny laugh burbling out of his throat as if he cannot stop it. Arthur can practically feel him rolling his eyes. But at least he isn't crying anymore, and the deep sound of his laughter causes a warm lightness to tighten in Arthur's chest. 

"I've got something else I want, I need to say to you first, clotpole." Merlin withdraws his head a little and wipes at his cheeks and eyes, lips stretching into a tremulous smile that grows more sure even as he remains emotional, gaze flickering downward a little as he bites his lower lip.

"Yes?" Arthur lifts his chin and cocks an eyebrow, even as he tries not to allow his lips to twitch up in an answering smile. Not yet. Just as he strives desperately not to let his voice grow rough from emotion again. The both of them do not need to be crying. "What is it, Merlin?"

He prepares to act offended, affronted; is going to expel a huff but the sincere, warm, and affectionate way that Merlin now looks at him steals all such thoughts from Arthur's brain.

"Thank you."

The manner in which Merlin's face brightens, even the slightest bit that it does as he voices his thanks, lets Arthur know that whatever Merlin thinks, whatever he decides, they will figure it out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! They've hugged now, Merlin's come out with the fact that he has magic, and I included some lines from the final episode on his end because they felt apropos.
> 
> I actually think this story can end here, what are your thoughts?
> 
> Comments appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> So this piece is dedicated in thanks for the idea to aithuzah, @clotpolesonly, and @onceandfuturehighpriestess - the last on instagram. No idea if any of them have accounts here but I thank them for giving me some serious food for thought about this show.  
> Thanks to the BBC Merlin writers for retroactively causing me to cry years down the line (if you suddenly decide to continue the series I won't even be mad I swear), to Colin Morgan and Bradley James for their absolutely STELLAR performances  
> And thanks so much to you for reading <3


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